Okay, briefly, and for the record, here's what happened; I went out with a few mates on a drug and alcohol fueled binge. Hey, c'mon, I deserved it, I was broke, broken hearted and newly single. The kids needed new shoes. I'd woken up that morning in a panic and hurredly dressed the kids before dropping them off at Mum's & 'Uncle' Brian's for the week. On my return the answerphone barked 'Happy Thirtieth Birthday, you old mongrel! Gladrags for eight!' That night I overdosed on Mescalin for the first and last time. The nightmare lasted for six days. On the seventh day, instead of resting, I walked unsteadily into the photographic studio of a snapper called Rob Sargeant. He said; ' Are you alright?' He took one shot. I threw up.

Twenty one years later I still look younger than the day he took that shot.
It's the only publicity shot I'll ever use.